


Rumour Has It

by QueensJenn



Category: Ylvis
Genre: Brotherly feels, Gen, Norges Herligste, implied headcanons, puking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-02
Updated: 2013-12-02
Packaged: 2018-01-03 06:48:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1067347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueensJenn/pseuds/QueensJenn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after the "Tegneseriemannen" of Norges Herligste.</p><p>Bård might jump to conclusions a little too easily, but no one can say he doesn't love his brother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rumour Has It

**Author's Note:**

> Set after "Tegneseriemannen": http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D15NDk1hvbs
> 
> I'm slowly developing entire headcanons about these two, and they're starting to show up here. It's pretty subtle though (I think) so I don't think I need to warn for anything. 
> 
> As always, AU, no wives and kids bla bla

It’s not like they’ve never had bad interviews before. Of course they have. Plenty of times.

But bad interviews are supposed to end with you shitfaced drunk, not with your brother on his knees, puking his guts out in front of a museum belonging to a deranged comic-book collector.

Vegard gets to his feet, wiping his mouth. 

“You okay?” Bård asks, which is a stupid question, because of course he’s not. He’s still pale as hell and shaky. Evidently, puking hadn’t helped as much this time around.

“No,” Vegard says, trying to keep his voice light. He looks at the camera, and Bård picks up what he’s trying to say. 

“We just have to keep it going,” he says into the camera cheerfully, playing it off as this is no big deal, this is hilarious! “On to the next person!”

The director makes the motion to ‘cut’, and the cameras turn off. Bård breathes a sigh of relief and unclips his mike. 

“Great job,” the director says, “all things considered. All right, you guys get started, we’re going to pack up and we’ll meet you at the next location.”

Bård nods and climbs into the driver’s seat. Vegard doesn’t move except a slight grunt of discomfort as the car starts to move.

It’s an 8 hour drive to their next location. They’re barely 20 minutes into the trip when Vegard sits up with a gasp.

“Bård, pull over,” he says.

“We’re on a highway--”

“For fuck’s sake, pull over!”

He does.

Vegard leaps out as soon as the car stops and once again empties his stomach by the side of the road.

(Or rather, he would have had he had anything in there to empty; now it’s just painful dry heaving, and he thinks that might be worse.)

“Are you finished?” Bård asks as Vegard stumbles back to the car and climbs in.

“Probably not.”

He’s right. Only 15 minutes later, there’s another urgent plea and another stop by the side of the road. 

And again, 15 minutes after that.

And then 10 minutes later.

This has to stop, Bård thinks as they pull over for the fifth time in an hour. It’s getting dark and they can’t keep pulling over. He pulls out his phone and checks the maps. There’s a town not too far away, they should be able to make it.

“Vegard.”

“Mm?” 

“There’s a town about 15 minutes away. We’re gonna stop there for the night. Think you can make it?”

Vegard stands up unsteadily, leaning on Bård for support as they walk back to the car. “I think so...we’ll be behind schedule though.”

“I don’t care. Do you?”

“No...”

“Then it’s settled.”

The camera crew is following them in a separate van. Bård waves them down. 

“We’re stopping for tonight,” he says firmly when the director approaches. “He can’t keep going like this.”

Vegard is sitting on the runningboard of the car, sipping slowly from a bottle of water, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He looks over at the small gathering, then slumps against the seat and closes his eyes.

That seals it. The director nods. “All right, then. We’ll keep going. Stay in contact with us, let us know what’s going on.”

Bård gives his word that he will, and then walks back over to the car. 

“Can you try not to puke for the next 15 minutes?” he asks.

Vegard groans, but climbs into the seat. “No promises.”  
~~~

In the end, he doesn’t puke, but it’s close. They check in to the hotel and get up to the room, and Vegard wastes no time, ducking into the washroom and closing the door. From behind it, Bård hears him retching and coughing. 

He looks down at his phone again unsure of what to do now. No new messages, and it’s almost 9:30, and sitting around in a hotel room listening to his brother puke is really unappealing.

And he’s really fucking starving. 

“Vegard,” he calls. “I’m going to get dinner.” And then, because he can’t resist: “Do you want anything?”

From behind the door is groan and a muffled, “Fuck you.” Bård smirks and leaves him in peace.

There’s a pub on the ground floor which looks as good as anywhere. The food isn’t appealing, but it’s close by and edible, so he decides to go there. He puts in his order then finds a seat near the back of the pub where he won’t be disturbed. He sinks onto the bench and closes his eyes, suddenly overwhelmed with the events of the day.

It’s not like they’ve never had bad interviews before. But this wasn’t funny-bad, it was bad-bad, it’s been a long, strange day, with too many interruptions and problems and things he can’t control. and ordinarily he could laugh it off with Vegard over a couple of beers, but Vegard isn’t here, is he. No, Vegard is upstairs, puking his guts out and looking like death warmed over. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen his brother so ill; he can’t even think of the last time Vegard was sick at all. Vegard is the strong one, the rock, the one who never stumbles or falls...

Bård takes a sip of his beer, and grips the cutlery tightly to make his hands stop shaking. Suddenly he’s not hungry anymore; it’s been replaced by a lead ball in his stomach and all he wants to do is run back upstairs. 

But the barman approaches and puts a plate of...something...down in front of him, and he knows he’s trapped. 

Try it. He can practically hear Vegard in his head. Just one bite. That’s all. Hesitantly, he takes a tiny bite of the stew and nods his thanks to the waiting barman. He wishes the man would just go away and stop watching him eat, but he doesn’t. He won’t stop watching.

“You’re not from around here, are you?”

Bård shakes his head. “No,” he answers, hoping that if he can just get through small talk, then maybe he’ll be left alone. He takes another tiny bite of the stew. 

“What brings you through?”

“Ah...my brother and I...we’re on a roadtrip.” It’s not entirely a lie, but he really doesn’t want to get into it. “He came down with the flu, so we stopped here for the night.”

“Ah, that’s too bad,” the man says, shaking his head. “There’s a bad flu going around right now.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“Yeah. Worse than we’ve ever had it.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes,” he says dolorously. “Lost three people this year already, and two more are in hospital.”

Bård puts his fork down. “Lost them...you mean, they died?”

“Yep.”

“Of the flu?”

“It’s a bad one.”

“Must be.” Suddenly the room is too warm and stuffy and he can’t breathe. He throws some bills down on the table and stands on shaky legs. “Would you excuse me?”

By the time he gets upstairs he’s sweating, but he’s cold all over and his hands are numb. He can barely fit the key in the lock and spends a minute fumbling with it, trying frantically to open the door. Finally - finally! - it swings open.

Vegard is lying on his back on the bed, eyes closed, skin dead white. He’s not breathing.

“No,” Bård whispers, all the air leaving his lungs. “No, Vegard!” He kneels on the bed and shakes him desperately.

“Augh! What the fuck, Bård!” Vegard yells, eyes snapping open. Bård scrambles backward.

“You’re alive.”

“Of course I’m alive. But you won’t be if you don’t let me go back to sleep within the next 5 seconds.” 

“Yeah, I...sorry...I...” he looks away. “I just thought.”

“Hey.” Vegard grabs his hand and squeezes it. “Calm down, okay? I’m not dead. I’m not going to die. I haven’t puked in over an hour. I feel much better. Why would you even think that?”

“They guy downstairs.” Now that it’s all over with, Bård feels ridiculous. “He was talking about the flu, and he said that there were a bunch of other people around here that died from it, and I thought...I just thought...” He throws his arms around Vegard. “Don’t die, okay? Just...don’t die.”

“I’m not going to die, dummy,” Vegard says affectionately. “But I am going back to sleep. And you should too. We need to get an early start tomorrow to catch up.”

“Yeah.” Now that the drama’s over and the long day is finally coming to an end, Bård is exhausted, as he always it when this happens. He lays down on the bed beside Vegard, his arms still around his brother.

“Did you eat?” Vegard asks after awhile.

“Yeah,” Bård answers. It’s not a lie. 

“Good.” He snugs into Bård’s embrace, breathing into the hollow of his neck. After a minute or so it evens out, and he begins to snore softly.

Bård lies awake for a long time, but when he finally sleeps, his dreams are untroubled.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Not Just Different, Better](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1085885) by [AOO](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AOO/pseuds/AOO)




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